


Under the Stars

by sobachka



Series: Zoyalai Works [6]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirates, F/M, Pirate AU, but they're Like That, enjoy, happy ending i swear it, ton of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27893062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobachka/pseuds/sobachka
Summary: zoya nazyalensky is sent undercover aboard the volkvolny to retrieve a stolen artifact. things don't go as planned.or the zoyalai pirate au no one asked for but everyone needed <3---She blinked, “what?”“Try not to get too distracted, Miss Zoya,” he said with a wink. Then, more seriously, “Now, care to enlighten me on how you got onto my ship?”“It was docked.”“It wasguarded,"She snorted, “not that well.”
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Series: Zoyalai Works [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789732
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	Under the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write pirates au

The hazel-eyed man was behind bars.

Zoya supposed that was objective. Technically,  _ she _ was behind bars. On the wrong side, one would think. The side without a ring of keys, the side that promised a wet cot for the night, and soggy food for breakfast.

He'd turned away from her, deep in a hushed conversation with a Shu girl with a short crop of black hair and an ax strapped to her thigh. Zoya studied them in the silence.

_ Sturmhond _ .

She'd heard stories about him, how he'd escaped the Grand Palace's dungeons, the time he'd led the Ravkan Commander on a wild goose chase, leaving false information with fellow pirates they'd been quick to catch. 

She suspected Commander Morozova's interest in him came from that particular incident, though she couldn't help but be impressed. It took them six months to realize all the clues were contradictory, and they'd reached halfway to the Wandering Isle when reports of a raid in Os Alta reached the Commander- and news of the stolen artifact. 

So naturally, Zoya had expected the man to be clever, and she'd known him to be cocky from the stories. She had not, however, anticipated that he'd be so young. Or handsome.

As if sensing her turn of thoughts the Captain's gaze fell on her, honey-toned eyes scanning her face for a hint of Saints knew what. She glared back at him.

"I trust you and Tolya can take care of that?" he asked quietly, attention back on the girl. She nodded once, flashing a grin sharper than the blade of her ax before disappearing up the steps.

The Captain's eyes were back on her. He raised a light brow.

"Do you intend to glare at me for the duration of this trip?"

"Do you intend to keep me locked up for the duration of this trip?" she returned, parroting his words.

Sturmhond grinned- he had the sort of grin her aunt would have said meant trouble. It was an oddly pleased look that made one feel like they'd passed some sort of secret test they hadn't been aware they were taking.

"That depends entirely on you, miss…" he sauntered closer to the bars, coming to stand directly in front of her. And had there been no bars, she might have smacked him for daring to come so near her. 

He raised his brows expectantly.

“Zoya,” she said, then cursed herself for lack of forethought.  _ So much for being a spy, now he knows your real name. _

“ _ Zoya _ ,” he tested, dragging out the letters of her name. She rather liked the way he said her name.  _ Or he’s just one of those people with nice voices, and you need to get a grip, _ her mind reasoned.

She suspected it was right.

That’s when she realized that mister pretty-eyes-nice-voice had been talking to her and she’d completely tuned out his words.

She blinked, “what?”

“Try not to get  _ too  _ distracted, Miss Zoya,” he said with a wink. Then, more seriously, “Now, care to enlighten me on how you got onto my ship?”

“It was docked.”

“It was  _ guarded _ ,”

She snorted, “not that well.”

He cocked his head to the side, scrutinizing her through the bars. Zoya raised her chin. She was Ravka’s best soldier, the Commander’s best spy. She was Zoya Nazyalensky and she would not cower before a  _ pirate _ .

But all Sturmhond did was nod, almost to himself, and mutter, “no, I suppose not.”

She got the distinct feeling he didn’t believe her, but he said nothing more, the hint of a frown still lingering on his face.

“Well, I do hope you enjoy your stay aboard the Volkvolny,” he said, grin returning, “the window will provide an excellent view for you until we dock again.”

_ Shit _ . Maybe she had been a little too confident about gaining their trust so fast. Sturmhond turned to leave, heading for the stairs the girl had departed from, but Zoya’s time was already limited.

“You’re just going to leave me here?” she called after him, hoping her voice remained steady as her heart began beating rapidly. Sturmhond paused at the base of the steps and turned to her, something she couldn’t quite discern marking his features.

“Tours are reserved for people who don’t sneak onto my ship,” he offered a half-smile, “particularly not ones with lockpicks tucked into their hair.”

Zoya’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her hair, but the two rods of metal she had pushed into her tied hair were missing. She tried to come up with an excuse to explain them, but Sturmhond had already disappeared up the steps, and Zoya was left wondering if she had perhaps underestimated the Captain of the Volkvolny.

________________

Nikolai loved the sea.

He loved everything about it, from the way it glittered under the rays of the sun, to the scent of salt and something distinctly sea-like he couldn't name. He loved the spray of water when he was too close to the edge, the feel of waves beckoning him closer.

"What's that?" 

Genya's voice startled him, and Nikolai looked down at his hand, realizing he'd been twisting the lockpicks in his fingers for some time.

"Just a souvenir," he replied, offering her a grin.

Genya narrowed her eyes at him- he never could lie to her. And he had trouble evading her inquisitive amber eye.

"Where's David gone off to?" he asked instead. His friend sighed deeply, as though her husband was a troubling matter, and busied herself with tucking a few stray red hairs behind her ear.

"Our cabin, he hasn't been anywhere else since you gave him your latest idea to study," she eyed him, frowning, "Lantsov, I think you're destroying my marriage."

Nikolai let out a surprised laugh, "come now, it's not as bad as all that."

"I'll make you share a cabin with David next time," she muttered, "see how comfortable sleeping beside books is."

Nikolai shook his head, eyes returning to the sea. He wasn't fooled by all of Genya's talk, after all, he'd been the one to marry them, on this ship. He hadn't seen two people who understood each other so well before.

His thoughts returned to the girl below decks.

"Has she said anything?" Genya asked, practically reading his mind.

"Nothing of use," Nikolai conceded, closing his fingers around the lockpicks and shrugging. "But she's stuck with us now, so I suppose it'll come out in time."

He gave her a smile and turned to leave, whistling a tune he thought he knew, but perhaps the sound was slightly off-key.

"That's what I'm worried about," Genya said, but her voice was drowned out by the wind.

  
  


His cabin was the nicest on the ship, and it had nothing to do with the rows of books or the table laden with maps, or even the large wooden desk he'd had made to fit perfectly in the space.

No, it's charm came from the window, a large wall of glass that gave him a clear view of the sea he loved so dearly. It was the first thing he saw when he entered the room, and he had memorized the way light flooded inside, casting everything in a golden glow. It was directly where his eyes went when he opened the door.

Which is why it was rather hard to miss the young woman perched on his desk, in front of said window, silhouetted against the evening sun.

Nikolai raised a brow, "don't tell me the brigs weren't properly guarded, either?"

She cut him a glare, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. He couldn't help but think she looked perfect, the last rays of sunlight illuminating her deep brown skin, dark blue eyes watchful, and even in just a simple shirt and trousers, she was stunning.

"No, they were," she said with a shrug, "but you've gone and underestimated me again, Sturmhond, and that's a mistake."

He raised a brow, "duly noted,"

"Good." She nods once, as if affirming this fact. "Now, we need to talk."

Nikolai gave her an amused look. A steady pounding had begun in his left temple and he felt weariness already clawing its way to the surface.

"I believe we tried that, didn't we?" He held up her lockpicks for emphasis, which only made her eyes narrow at him.

" _ Those _ are my favorite. But they're not my only pair," she said. "I came here for a reason, Sturmhond."

Nikolai crossed his arms, leaning against the nearest bookshelf. She really was a mystery. And there was something about the way she watched him, intent in her eyes that told him whatever it was she wanted, whatever brought her to his ship, she wouldn't be leaving without it.

"And what might that be?"

She hopped off the desk and he was reminded that though her glare could cripple a man where he stood, Zoya remained rather short. She came to stand in front of him, hardly reaching up to his shoulder. He tried to keep his mind from straying to the way her dark hair fell around her face, the stray locks ridiculously distracting.

"A job."

Nikolai frowned, "what?"

"I need a job," she said simply, "and you're going to give me one on your ship"

He let out a surprised laugh, "you snuck onto my ship to get a  _ job? _ " 

Zoya did not seem very amused by this. "Yes, obviously. Now, either you let me be part of the crew, or…" she paused, frowning, then clarified, "you don't actually have a choice here."

Nikolai considered her for a moment. Genya clearly had her doubts about Zoya, and he couldn’t be certain why he didn’t. There was something about the way she held everything far enough to inspect, the way her sharp blue eyes had watched him through the bars. It was a look he recognized, though he couldn’t place just yet, one he felt certain he'd worn plenty of times before.

“Alright,” he said finally.

There was a hint of relief in her eyes, almost immediately replaced by suspicion, “alright?” 

“We return to Ravka in two weeks time, and we can't very well throw you to the Sea Whip," he said, shrugging, "you have until then to prove yourself to the crew."

“Oh,” she managed, frowning.

“Realizing a resume would have saved you trouble?” he asked, unable to help the smirk tugging at his lips. “Worry not, Miss Zoya, you’ll find my crew aren’t made up of the purest sailors.”

“Did they all sneak onto the ship as well?” she challenged.

“No, that was a first, admittedly,” he allowed himself a grin, opening the door for her to leave before adding, “but at least  _ you  _ didn’t try to poison me.”

________________

Sturmhond, Captain of the Volkvolny, and self-proclaimed greatest pirate to sail the True Sea did not keep a diary.

Zoya supposed it would have been rather convenient, but her mission wasn't based around convenience. 

And the leather bound journal she'd slipped into the waistband of her pants would have to be enough.

"This will be your cabin- temporarily, anyway," the redheaded girl- Genya?- was saying, "the Captain has a rule about dining together, so dinner is at sundown, everyday."

The girl was beautiful, and Zoya couldn't stop herself from noting that fact. Cascading red hair framing a pale face somehow no less stunning with dozens of cross crossed scars spread across it. An eyepatch embroidered with the design of a fox covered her right eye.

"He doesn't dine alone?" Zoya asked, tearing her gaze away from the girl to look around the cabin. Small, though admittedly much better than her cell. The cot was covered in a thick blanket and there was even a shelf with books, held in place with some twine though they still swayed as the ship rocked, and a chest of what must have been clothes was pushed up against the wall.

"Saints no," said Genya, her amber eye following Zoya as she stepped inside. "Something about bonding amongst the crew mates, wanting us all to feel equal."

Zoya glanced back with surprise, but the girl's face was perfectly serious, the hint of a smile touching her red lips.

"Though between you and me, I think he's just lonely."

_ The deadliest Captain alive, lonely. _ Saints, how much of the rumors she'd heard were even true?

She bit her lip against the torrent of questions, reminding herself that her mission remained unchanged. And this was merely a single step closer to where she needed to be.

"I'll let you settle in," Genya said, snapping Zoya back to the present. She clapped her hands together once in finality before adding, "oh, and there are some extra clothes in the chest, you're a bit shorter than me so the pants might need cuffing, but I'm good with a needle if anything else needs adjusting. I'll be in my cabin down the hall if you need me."

And with that, she disappeared again, and Zoya realized she hadn't even thanked the girl. Though she figured thanking someone before delivering them to their doom did not exactly make for good manners.

The sun was already setting, the last rays washing her room in a warm golden light. Zoya let the door shut as quietly as possible, even if she was now a legal member of the crew, precautions still felt necessary. Her mind returned to her talk with the Captain. The look he'd given her almost had Zoya thinking she'd been found out, but then he'd grinned that infuriating grin of his, like all the world could be mended if he just smiled widely enough, and gave her exactly what she wanted.

_ Focus _ . 

Zoya shook her head- this damn Captain and his distraction methods. She sat at the edge of the cot, nearly stumbling as the ship rocked beneath her. It would take time to adjust to life aboard a ship.

_ Not life, just a few weeks, possibly less. _

The journal she'd tucked into her pants was small, rectangular and bound in brown leather. Now that she was really looking at it, Zoya noticed a small engraving of the letter 'L' on the front. She traced her thumb over it, frowning. Why  _ 'L' _ ?

Tucking that mystery away, she began thumbing through the pages of the journal, which was fairly thick and seemed incapable of closing properly, as though all the ideas written inside were just about ready to burst off the page.

Most of them were sketches. She had seen architectural work in Ravka, plans to enhance the military and such- these looked just like that, only messier. The vague shape of a ship with two oval like planes attached to its side and a small note that might've read  _ 'up to thirty meters high' _ though she couldn't be certain what that meant.

Further in, the drawings only became messier and some of them were just doodles of sea creatures, one of a small fox. They were surprisingly good drawings.

Still further were reminders, mundane things like to remember to restock the flour or a 'Tolya' would otherwise be upset, some book titles she recognized, names of places she'd never been to.

All in all, no plans, information, or even the slightest hint at where the stolen artifact was. It was likely the most useless thing she'd found, and she'd broken into his bloody office for it.

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, causing her to leap from her place in a panic.

"Come in," she called, then, realizing the journal was still in her hand, she shoved it under the blanket and crossed her arms as the door opened a crack.

A head poked in, messy brown hair and what might be glasses over the man's eyes, though a hand was firmly pressed over them and she couldn't tell.

"Sorry, er- Zoya, was it? The Captain would like to know if you'll be joining us for dinner?" She imagined he asked this very seriously, but half his face was covered and she couldn't tell.

"Why are you covering your eyes?" She asked, frowning.

"Genya says I have a bad habit of catching people in the wrong state. This is a precaution."

"Precaution?"

"In case you are in a state of undress."

She snorted despite herself, the smallest smile coming onto her face, "do you think I would have allowed you in if I was?"

A pause. 

"Good point." The hand dropped away to reveal, as she'd suspected, a pair of glasses slipping off the man's nose. Brown eyes blinked at her. "Hello. I'm David."

Zoya raised both brows in mild amusement,  _ Saints, is the whole crew mad? _

"Hello, David." She said, "I'll come down in a minute."

He nodded once, affirming this fact before disappearing again, the door shutting behind him with a gentle thud. She thought she heard him say it'll be sixty seconds before Zoya could join, and she could only roll her eyes.

This ship, and the people on it, seemed to grow stranger and stranger by the second.

_ You'd fit right in _ , her mind whispered, but she silenced it quickly. There was no point to dwelling on a future that would never be. And she had dinner to attend.

  
  


Zoya had two weeks to gain the Captain's trust, and less to find the stolen artifact. But the crew did not seem to share her worries, gathered around a table laden with all sorts of foods. Some she recognized instantly as Ravkan- quail roasted in honey, almond cakes dusted with coconut, and pickled herring. But others still were new to her eyes, assorted cookies stuffed with dates and plates of rice with steaming vegetables.

It was a feast made for a king.

A flash of red caught her eye amongst the chaos of people she couldn't remember the names of and crew members who hadn't been in the Commander's file back in Os Alta- Genya, waving her over from the other side of the table, a small smile on her lips, as if she could read Zoya's thoughts.

It was loud when Zoya settled in the empty seat beside the red haired woman, fighting a wince as someone began to sing what might have once been poetry, or a sea shanty, though the words seemed dulled down with drink.

"Zoya! Have you met David, yet?" She greeted, and Zoya noticed for the first time the man beside her, nothing but messy brown hair visible above the book he was reading.

"I have, yes, he's very…" she tried to find the right word to describe the man with, before settling on, "polite."

Genya beamed, "he's my husband!"

That caught Zoya by surprise. A married couple on this ship?  _ All you'll find are a bunch of lawless cutthroats on the miserable plank of wood _ .

Perhaps Morozova had been misinformed.

The redhead turned to say something to her husband in hushed tones, and Zoya returned to studying the room.

One long table, likely screwed to the floorboards so it didn't topple over as they sailed, with seats running down both sides filled with crew members from varying countries that all seemed relatively the same age. An empty chair sat at the head of the table, and Zoya's gaze lingered there for a moment.

"He's late," she mumbled.

"Fashionably so!" A voice announced, and Zoya jumped out of her seat, immediately reaching for the dagger tucked into her belt, heart thumping in her chest. The Captain's amused hazel eyes followed the movement, and he raised a single brow.

"That," he said, using his fork to indicate the murder weapon she nearly unleashed on him, "is a very rude way to say hello."

Zoya shook her head, trying to calm her breathing,  _ excellent way to earn his trust, Nazyalensky, _ Morozova's mocking voice echoed in her head,  _ pull a weapon on him at dinner. _

"Do  _ not _ sneak up on me again," she snapped, then realizing she still needed his trust she added, "Captain."

"Noted," he said, a smile touching his lips. His eyes scanned the room for a moment, settling on a large man she recognized as the one who'd been singing. He clapped his hands once, "well, I hope dinner is adequate to your tastes, Miss Zoya. Try not to kill anyone for the night?"

The hint of a smile threatened to spread across her face and she shrugged, "no promises."

Then he was off and she was wondering why a bit of disappointment lingered in his absence.

________________

Nikolai leaned forward over the book David had dropped in front of him, completely ignoring the plates of food surrounding them, and frowned.

"What exactly am I meant to see?" He asked, glancing up at his friend, who's eyes were wide with that near-manic excitement that often resulted in their best work.

"Nikolai the  _ ship _ !" He urged, tapping his finger against the page hurriedly.

Nikolai's eyes followed his finger, reading the few lines. Something about wind resistance and a Zemini architect who'd remade an old ship with… 

It took a beat for the words to register.

" _ Saints _ , David, where did you find this?" The words left him in a rush as Nikolai held up the book and skimmed through a few more lines. If this was true, if the man had succeeded with reinforcing the ship with steel, then perhaps their plan was not so far fetched after all.

"Right there in the book," David said reasonably, then with a small grin, "Genya noticed it."

_ Bless you both _ , Nikolai thought, still distracted, his mind running a mile a minute. This perfectly matched the sketch he'd been working on, he realized, reaching for his journal. 

He frowned, patting the pockets of his teal coat. Hadn't he brought it with him?  _ Must have left it in the office. _

"Here," he handed David the book, who cradled it like a small child, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "I'll be back in a moment."

Nikolai headed straight out of the dining room, taking the steps two at a time and landing above-decks with an enthusiastic leap. At some time during the hours they'd spent dining and talking, night had blanketed the seas. Cool air breezed through the ship, rocking it and cooling Nikolai's skin. He inhaled deeply, unable to help the grin coming onto his face. 

If this was what it felt like to sail, what might it be like to fly?

That's when he noticed her, leaning against the railing, just a silhouette against the starry sky, her dark hair melding with the shadows.

Nikolai furrowed his brows, approaching her uncertainly- hadn't she been with Genya?- and the floorboards creaked as he moved, startling her. Zoya whipped her head back, sharp blue eyes finding him in the dark.

"I come in peace," he said, raising both hands to show he was unarmed. She rolled her eyes, returning to her contemplation of the sea.

He needed to be somewhere, didn't he? But the space beside her looked so inviting, and he couldn't help but step closer.

"I've always wanted to see the stars," she admitted, her voice soft.

Nikolai smiled. He understood the feeling. "Maybe if you stay with us, you'll get to see more of them."

She stiffened at his words, and Nikolai instantly felt guilty- what had he said to elicit that response? Saints, maybe he should take Genya's advice and stay silent every once in a while.

"Maybe," she said, her voice still quiet, as though she feared that somewhere among the dark waves and shimmering stars, someone might hear her.

Nikolai tapped his fingers against the rail for a moment, wondering why he felt the need to stay a little longer.  _ She's part of the crew, at least temporarily _ , he reasoned,  _ and that makes her my responsibility. _

He found he didn't mind that very much.

"Is this what you do all day, the infamous Captain Sturmhond?" She asked, surprising him, there was the barest hint of suspicion to her words, "eat, laugh, and drink. Let time pass under the stars."

He laughed, "is that such an awful way to live one's life?"

She cocked her head, looking thoughtful, "perhaps not."

"And what about you, mysterious Zoya with lockpicks and a dagger at the ready," he said, watching the way the light reflected on her dark skin, "how do you spend your days?"

"Besides sneaking onto ships, you mean?" She asked, and Nikolai grinned.

"Besides that,"

"I'm…" she hesitated, then frowned, averting her gaze, "A barmaid. You must have seen me at the tavern."

"I think I'd remember that," he said, earning a sharp glare from her. "What about your family?"

She seemed to withdraw a bit at that, something hardening in her gaze, "all gone."

Nikolai didn't press the matter, "from what I can tell, eating, drinking, and letting time pass under the stars sounds like exactly what you need, Miss Zoya."

And Nikolai needed to leave before his mind convinced him that slipping closer or brushing her hair away from her face was a good idea. He turned away, assuming she wouldn't reply, and headed instead for his office, now that he'd finally remembered what it was he'd come to get.

Still the wind carried to him the last of her words, barely a whisper, and maybe he'd imagined it, "you might be right."

________________

Zoya Nazyalensky had not forgotten her mission. 

It had been four days since she'd snuck aboard the Volkvolny, three since she'd stolen the Captain's journal, and in that time she had almost gotten used to the crew. The sounds of back and forth shouting from above-decks waking her with the first rays of dawn, her routine read-through of the aforementioned journal- to gain more information on the Captain, of course- and the dinners where she could almost believe she was just another sailor lost in the drink and the waves.

But before anything else, Zoya remained a soldier of the Ravkan army, and she knew where her loyalties lay.

And her time was growing more and more limited by the hour. She had to find that artifact.

"Whatever those planks did to you, I'm sure they're sorry now," said a voice. Zoya glanced up from the where she'd been furiously mopping at the floor to find Tamar raising a brow at her.

"It isn't working," she muttered, eyeing her mop with distrust. This was the first time she'd been tasked with cleaning the deck, and it was proving to be more difficult than she'd anticipated.

"Weren't you a barmaid?" Tamar asked, and though she said it good-naturedly, Zoya still froze at the lie, averting her eyes.

"We had different floors."

"Never mind," said Tamar, taking the broom from her and leaning against it. "We can trade roles- see that stack of weapons over there? They need to be sharpened."

Zoya grinned despite herself, her gaze landing on the very same pile of swords and axes she'd had her eye on for days. "Now  _ that _ I can do."

  
  


Zoya waited for someone to ask why she, a supposed barmaid, knew to sharpen and clean a sword better than how to mop, but no one did. There was a strange circle of trust the crew shared, and at some point, she'd been let into it.

She tried to ignore the swell of her heart at the thought.  _ Just a mission _ .

The sword she'd been cleaning was the last of the bunch, a beautiful short sword studded with blue gems at the hilt, and she'd taken meticulous care cleaning it, until she could see her own blue eyes reflected in it's blade.

She smiled.

The crew were all busy with their own tasks, so Zoya hopped off the barrel she'd sat on, leaving the pile of weapons aside and testing the blade in her hand.

She weighed it in her hand before tightening her grip and thrusting forward at an invisible enemy. And suddenly she wasn't on a ship, she was back in Ravka, with Botkin on the other side, telling her to loosen her grip and spread her legs- keep her touch light and impactful.

Lost in the memory, she swung it around, spinning back and arching it straight into-

Metal clashed against metal and Zoya was flung back into the present as hazel eyes found hers behind the blade of a cutlass.

"Up for a little challenge, Miss Zoya?" He asked, and she realized half the crew had stopped what they were doing to watch.

So much for not bringing attention to herself.

Zoya pulled back, ducking as the Captain's blade swung over her head, and then she was back up, and Botkin's words were fresh in her ears.  _ Always be on the offense. Eyes on the hilt, not the blade _ .

But the Captain was good, she had to give him that, he had her stumbling back, nearly falling as his cutlass hacked at hers with three smooth curves.

"Not bad, barmaid," he called, a smirk coming onto his lips. But her favorite lesson had been the last she'd learned- let your opponent get cocky.

And it seemed the Captain was already there.

"Captain," said Zoya, gasping as she ducked away from another hit, before coming up full force and thrusting forward, his eyes widening with surprise, "watch your feet."

And then she swung a leg out, catching him at the knees. She couldn't help a smile as the Captain fell back with a grunt, sword clattering away.

Zoya let the tip of  _ her _ sword- she was already thinking of it as such- find the Captain's jaw, tilting it up so he could catch the full smirk on her face.

"You fight dirty," he said, eyeing her with distrust. 

"Only with pirates," Zoya shrugged, unable to help the self satisfaction brimming in her heart- she  _ had  _ just defeated the Captain of the Volkvolny,  _ and  _ reinforced her barmaid story to the rest of the crew. "It's impossible to defeat me, Captain."

" _ Improbable _ ," The twinkle in his eye was the only warning Zoya got before the Captain caught her wrist and pulled her down with him, her sword falling away as he rolled them aside, so her back was pressed against the floor and she could see the smug smile on his face from way too close.

"Nothing's impossible, dear Zoya," he said with a grin. Her eyes followed the movement of his lips around the words, mind growing foggy with him pressed against her. "You'd do well to remember that."

She snapped her gaze back to his and narrowed it, hoping the heat rising in her cheeks was easy to miss. But with the way the Captain's hazel eyes watched her, Zoya doubted it.

And then he was standing again, offering her a hand and grinning, bathed in sunlight and the joy of his latest win. She had never wanted to smack him more.

Zoya settled for ignoring the offered hand and standing on her own, stomping away from the Captain. She couldn't be near him then, not with her heart still hammering in her chest and the heat of his touch still clinging to her.

________________

Nikolai liked trouble. It kept boredom at bay, and made way instead for opportunity.

And opportunity was where Nikolai thrived.

"You can't be serious," Genya's single amber eye watched him warily.

"I try never to be serious, lest people start expecting it of me," Nikolai said mildly, then added, "but in this case, I'm afraid I am."

He'd gathered a few members of his crew inside his office, just the people he trusted most- the twins, as well as Genya and David. And Nikolai himself was surprised when he'd gone to Zoya's cabin and asked her to join them.

_ Two weeks, and already so infatuated, Captain? _ Tamar had mocked the day before, following his eyes to where Zoya had been perched on a barrel with Genya, a small smile on her face as the red haired girl relayed a story. Criss crossed lines shadowed her face as sunlight poured through the net's squares, catching her eyes and making them glow dangerously.

Perhaps Tamar wasn't entirely wrong.

"Captain, is there honestly no way around this?" Tamar's foot was tapping restlessly against the floor, her fingers straying to the comfort of her ax's hilt, "the Volkvolny is the fastest ship to sail these waters, we could outrun any threat."

"You can't run on water," Nikolai pointed out. He thought there might be a moral there somewhere, but his mind was too tired to search for it. Sometimes words were just words, nothing deeper.

"No, but you can fly."

Nikolai's gaze snapped up to David's. Their plan had only been traded back and forth between them two, with Genya's advice and occasional assistance. But his friend was pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and blinking very seriously at Nikolai. 

He supposed no secret would last forever.

"What is he talking about?" It was the first time Zoya had spoken since she'd entered the office. Not a word since Nikolai had informed them all that they were being trailed, that a contact of his had given him a warning when they'd docked no more than two hours at a Noyvi Zem harbor- Commander Morozova was on their tail.

Which was odd since Zoya hardly ever kept silent about anything.

He let his gaze slide to her now, leaning quietly against one of the many bookshelves in his office, sharp blue eyes watching him.  _ Assessing _ .

"Just a little project David and I have been working on," he said, torn between wanting to keep it a surprise, and the urge he seemed to always have around Zoya: to impress. The latter won in the end. 

"To take this ship farther than any sails could reach- to the stars themselves."

Zoya's eyes widened ever so slightly, and he remembered what she told him the first night of her stay,  _ I've always wanted to see the stars _ .

"But that's impossible,"

" _ Improbable _ ," he corrected, punctuating his words with a wink. Then he turned back to the waiting crew and grinned, adrenaline already pumping through his blood- this was a far better plan than the one he'd had before, which is to say, no plan. 

The rational part of his brain was already warning him: They could fail completely. They could get caught, or come down crashing through the waves, but what was life without a little risk?

"Alright then, team," he clapped his hands together once, letting his gaze travel over the five members in his office, the people he trusted with his life, "let's cause some trouble."

  
  


Once he'd assigned everyone a task, and given himself a good portion of the work, Nikolai returned to his office, expecting it to be empty.

Once again, Zoya was perched on his desk. She glanced up when he entered, closing the book she'd been reading as he let the door close with a thud. 

"Not a big fan of flying, I take it?" He asked, taking a few steps into the room. Her dark hair fell over her shoulder and Nikolai had the strangest urge to reach out and thread his fingers through it.

"When will we reach Ravka?" She asked instead, sharp eyes finding his.  _ Saints, _ those eyes, the very color of a raging storm- dark clouds and booming thunder, all encased within.

"Hardly a day," he replied. Had he drawn even closer? His mind said he had, since the line of her jaw was more clearly visible, and his eyes were following the curve of her neck. He snapped his gaze back up, focusing back on the conversation. "Do you intend to leave us once we port?"

He had said it was her choice, hadn't he? Two weeks to prove herself to the crew, and she'd done it in minutes. But if she wished to go back to Ravka, to her job and whatever mystery of a life she led there… 

Zoya pursed her lips and shrugged, "maybe, who knows?"

"Who knows, indeed." He replied. Her eyes were on him, but she wasn't pulling away, and he couldn't help but draw closer, let his hands rest on the table, framing her thighs. He must have gone completely mad, and the scent of wildflowers clouding his senses wasn't helping his scattered thoughts.

"And what about you, Captain?" Zoya's voice, almost soft, making his heart speed in his chest, the barest hint of breath against his jaw. "Will you escape in your flying ship to the stars beyond?"

_ Only if you come with me _ , he thinks, but doesn't say. He isn't sure what to say, but his mind returns to thoughts of storms and dangerous waters when he meets her eyes again. He's close enough to feel her rapid breathing, close enough to know that a tilt of her chin would bring their lips together.

"Why is it you never call me  _ Nikolai _ ?" He muttered, brushing a few dark strands of hair behind her ear, feeling the shudder that went through her at his touch. 

"First names are too personal," she said, and it sounded like an automatic response, memorized lines. Nikolai couldn't help a light chuckle.  _ Saints _ , she was driving him mad. 

"And what if I wanted it to be personal?"

"Then I'd ask you this,  _ Nikolai _ ," he swallowed, rather enjoying the sound of it on her lips. But his joy was short lived, because something in Zoya's eyes had shuttered, and there was an item being pressed into his hand, cool and familiar against his skin. "What do those initials stand for?"

He knew what it was before he looked down- his own missing journal, the letter of a name long unused inscribed into its cover. Nikolai sighed, there really was no escaping some things, was there? 

"Let me tell you a story, Miss Zoya," he said, his words quiet, still entrapped in a moment of heat and possibility, "a story about a little boy who loved the sea."

"A little boy with a big title," she filled in. He searched her face for a moment, uncertain what he'd hoped to find, and winding up disappointed.

"Some would say yes," he agreed. "But the sea claims no titles for any man, except perhaps  _ survivor _ , and that one is earned."

"That's where you're wrong,  _ Captain _ ." Zoya said, voice laced with steel. She pushed off the desk, forcing him to move away as she crossed the room, putting more distance between them. "Survivor isn't earned, it's given. And hardly anyone receives the same gift twice."

________________

There wasn't very much room to pace in her cabin, but Zoya put every inch to use. The sun was setting, and dread brimmed in her heart as they neared the shores of Ravka.

It all clicked into place.

She hadn't been given any information on the artifact Zoya had been sent to retrieve, only that it was crucial for it to be brought back, and that she would know it once she'd lay eyes on it.

In fact, Zoya had not needed to actually witness the artifact to know what it was- the only thing it could ever have been. The only thing the second Lantsov prince could have possibly stolen.

Something that was his for the taking.

And now Morozova would be waiting for them, and this meant that Zoya had succeeded in her mission, had brought the man and the artifact, double what he'd asked for. So why was there a tightening in her chest at the thought?

Shouts rang out from above, and she knew before she discerned their words what they'd seen.

The Commander and his army awaiting the Volkvolny's crew.

  
  


There was some panic aboard, at first. No one had suspected there'd be a troop lining the Os Alta harbor where they'd intended to dock.

No one, save Zoya, of course.

"Saints above, Zoya," Genya whispered furiously, her voice almost choked. "I trusted you."

Zoya didn't dare glance up. It had taken only ten minutes for the crew to realize there was nowhere to run, and then the ship was drifting towards the dock, and the Commander had boarded without much trouble.

At least, none since the crew had been tied to the mast, eight soldiers holding them at gunpoint.

Zoya kept her gaze firmly pointed forward, on the waves that had become her comfort, and would now be nothing but a distraction.

"Painful, is it not?" His cool voice glided over the ship, and even the wind seemed to still at his words. She stiffened automatically, but his focus was on Genya, dark coat dragging on the floorboards as he approached her. "To have trusted someone who turned their back on you."

Zoya frowned. There was a fire burning in Genya's single amber eye, no sign of tears, but a deep anger she had never seen on the girl's face before.

"Don't you just wish," Morozova leaned closer to her, bringing his hand up to motion the caress of her face, not touching her skin. She flinched away. "That you could make her regret it?"

Zoya stilled, as a voice full of venom shouted, "get away from her!"

_ David? _

Morozova let the barest hint of a smile touch his lips, "you could have been my star, my general, Safin. A drop of poison, and this business would have been complete long ago."

_ At least you didn't try to poison me. _

Had Genya been part of the Ravkan army as well? A soldier sent on a mission from which she never returned. Zoya was still frowning when Morozova turned his slate gray eyes on her, whatever hint of a smile was gone now, replaced by his usual, cool expression.

"Where is it?" He asked, straight to the point.

"It's on his person, sir, he never parts with it." An educated guess, but she stated it like a fact. 

Morozova let his chin tilt ever so slightly in what might have been approval, if one squinted. "You'll have all that I promised you, Zoya, and more.  _ General _ Nazyalensky, no longer a mere soldier."

She straightened her back, heart fluttering just slightly, her beliefs reinstating with a single reminder: this was nothing but a barrier she needed to surpass. 

"And none of it will equal a single night beneath the stars," 

Zoya swallowed, hard. She turned to look at Nikolai as he stepped out of his office, Morozova insisting he come out on his own, wanting the moment of his capture to be special. But his full attention was trained on Zoya.

"Chains wrought of diamonds and gold," he added, almost to himself. "Is  _ that _ such a great way to live one's life?"

She knew he was parroting her own words, so many nights before, where dreams of laughter and moonlit dinners had seemed almost close enough to touch, and reach out for if she dared.

Zoya forced her expression to remain blank, but Nikolai's eyes were still searching her face when Morozova spoke, "at last he reveals himself. Not yet free of those gold chains if the threat of this crew dying for you didn't delay your supper. Isn't that right, Lantsov?"

She saw his jaw clench at the name, the title he'd taken to the seas to be rid of.

"Now give me what I want, and perhaps I'll spare your life," said Morozova. 

Zoya's eyebrows drew together, he wouldn't kill a  _ prince _ , would he? But nothing seemed certain now, and when Nikolai made no move to retrieve the artifact, Morozova flicked his wrist and suddenly three rifles were pointed at his heart.

Zoya froze, her eyes going wide- Saints, they were going to kill him. Her mind wasn't functioning right, too many contradicting ideas racing through it. At least that's the excuse she gave herself when she stepped forward.

"Let me," she said, and tried to ignore the snarl Tamar tossed her way, focusing her full attention on Nikolai. 

Even as she approached him, there was no sign of betrayal or surprise in his honey-toned eyes. But something else lay there, almost like hope.

Zoya swallowed, trying not to remember anything of the past few weeks, the nights of laughter and the stories shared under the stars, the way Nikolai smiled as he watched his crew, even when their eyes weren't on him, as though he'd found peace at last. The way he'd leaned close to her in his office, and heat had crackled through the air around them.

"Give it to me, and I promise we'll be gone," she said, though she couldn't ascertain if that was a promise she could make.

"Is this what you want?" He said, his voice wasn't exactly loud, but she still glanced nervously at the Commander. "A life in the palace where you're always second? Where your lifespan is measured by your usefulness?"

Zoya averted her gaze, unable to look directly at the intensity in his eyes, the need he had for her to understand. 

"Nikolai," she said quietly, and was rewarded with a quick inhale.  _ Never use the victim's first names, never make it personal. _ "Just give it to me, then you won't ever have to see me again, I swear it."

He huffed a laugh, and before Zoya could protest, he had caught her hand. She frowned as Nikolai curled her fingers around something small and cool, covering the item with a well-mannered kiss to her knuckles. 

"To letting time pass under the stars," he said softly.

It sounded like goodbye. 

There was a lump in her throat when next she tried to speak, and she tried to shake away the feeling as Nikolai set her hand down, brushing his fingers across her knuckles one last time, his kiss leaving a mark that burned through her skin.

"Do you have it?" The Commander almost sounded bored, and still Zoya couldn't tear her gaze away from Nikolai, trying to memorize the way his golden hair fell into his eyes, the barest hint of a smile always curving his lips. 

"Yes-" the word had barely left her mouth when the shot rang out. Hazel eyes went wide, someone shouted in the distance, and then chaos broke loose on the deck of the Volkvolny.

________________

Nikolai was nearly certain he was trudging through thick snow during Ravka's worst winter, with the addition of his foggy thoughts and dizzy mind that made him question his sobriety.

And there was something else, the feeling of a thousand burning spikes being pressed into his abdomen at the same time, a wetness that might have been the melting snow or his imagination. His thoughts seemed held at bay by the voices, the voices that never spoke to him, only about him.

_ "Keep pressure on the wound," _

_ "Give him another dose," _

_ "Where's the Captain?" _

He tried to speak to them, multiple times, even, but when he did the spikes thrust more deeply into his skin, and he could make out the blurry shapes of what might have been heads looking down at him.

Perhaps these were the Saints, and they wished to help him out.

_ "Give him double,"  _ said the saint with eyes like raging storms, and then the snow beneath him fell away, and buried Nikolai beneath layers and layers of white.

  
  


A soft sobbing was what woke Nikolai the second time, or perhaps it was the third, and the second was reserved for the time red hair caught in his parted lips and he woke to find Genya pressing something over his body. It's possible that was only a dream. 

"I'm so, so sorry," the voice said softly, and Nikolai tried to smile, his eyelids too heavy to pull open, the black oblivion standing at bay, ready to pull him under once more.

But he recognized the voice, and he could not leave her alone.

Pain erupted in his side at the very thought of him moving and Nikolai had to stifle a gasp. She stilled beside him, he heard a sharp inhale followed by a sniffle.

_ On all the Saints _ , he thought irritably. Why did his thoughts refuse to leave his lips? Why did his tongue feel like dry clay, heavy in the confines of his mouth?

He tried to reach for her with his mind, to whisper soothing words like  _ it'll be alright, _ and,  _ I never stay dead for too long. _

The thoughts might not have translated into words, but they found their way to her through the curl of his fingers around her own.

And this time, Nikolai knew it wasn't a dream, because her hand was warm when she laced their fingers together, and the whisper of his name was the last thing he heard before he was sucked back into oblivion.

  
  


The first or the tenth time Nikolai awoke- dreams melded with reality and what he guessed was a very strong tonic of Genya's, and he couldn't ascertain- he was alone.

This time, his eyes were completely open, and his gaze traveled around the room as he tried to remember where he was.

It looked like his cabin, but not quite. In fact, he couldn't be certain it was a room aboard the Volkvolny at all, but the gentle rocking was the same, wasn't it?

Nikolai frowned, raising himself up into a sitting post and wincing as pain lanced through his body. He could just make out the golden hues leading to an evening sun, and beneath that-

He gasped in surprise, and then again in pain when he realized why the ship wasn't rocking at all.

They were in midair.

  
  


Nikolai considered how appropriate it was for a Captain to appear before his crew shirtless before grabbing his teal coat where someone had left it draped over a chair and closing it around his bandaged wound.

When he stepped out of his cabin, everything was slightly different. His mind couldn't quite focus on that fact, and latched instead onto the idea that the ship was empty.

Almost empty.

Nikolai was limping too much for stealth to have been an option, though he suspected Zoya had sensed he was awake, or at least heard the thud of him falling off the cot, and assumed as much.

She didn't glance back as he approached, silhouetted against the golden lit clouds as wind tore through the sails of the ship. Nikolai couldn't be certain what was more likely a figment of his imagination, the fact that they were flying, or the fact that Zoya was here.

"You knew," it wasn't a question, but a stated fact. He didn't deny it.

"How?" Zoya asked, still not looking at him, eyes trained on something past the clouds and the sun and the skies.

Nikolai contemplated how to respond before finally beginning with, "you know what happened to Genya, yes?"

Zoya's brows furrowed and she nodded ever so slightly, "she was meant to kill you."

Nikolai canted his head in confirmation, "you have your Commander to thank for that. She was once his most trusted advisor, and the minute she had doubts it was fire and hell." 

She flinched, then asked more quietly, "if you knew, then why let me onto the ship at all? Why not kill me right away?"

Nikolai sighed, letting his gaze travel across the impossible, which had at some point become his reality, "my crew are not angels, miss Nazyalensky. They did not sweep down from heaven on flourished wings with hearts as pure as the sea. We all have our secrets, our guilts."

_ Me, especially, _ he thought but held back from saying. He let his gaze land on her, dark hair caught in the wind, blue eyes watchful as ever. 

"When I saw you that night, I couldn't help but think that you looked like us. The same hunger in your eyes, the same clever workings in your brain. You looked like you belong here." he said, and  _ finally _ she looked at him, and he wasn't sure if the pain he felt was due to his wound or the slap that came with seeing Zoya and knowing that she could see him, too. He swallowed, letting his fingers come up to caress her face.

"You still do," he added quietly. She leaned ever so slightly into his touch, and a flash of a memory returned to him, a warm hand in his.

Nikolai's gaze dropped to her lips despite himself, but before he could move Zoya had lifted herself onto her tiptoes and fit her mouth to his.

Fire sparked against his skin, and then her fingers were fisting in the material of his coat, pulling him closer as their mouths crashed against each other, her lips parting under his. Whatever pain there was once evaporated and all Nikolai could think of was Zoya, the woman who had tipped his reality on its head.

Time seemed to slow around them until his lungs begged for air and he had to pull away, his breathing still as ragged and heavy as her own. He let his forehead press against hers, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as the storm in her eyes seemed to calm, if only temporarily.

"There's something you should know," Zoya said after a moment, still close enough that her words brushed against his jaw.

"And what might that be?" Nikolai responded, still a little dazed.

"We aren't aboard the Volkvolny."

He frowned, pulling away long enough to assess the ship. He'd known something was wrong, but now he could pinpoint it. The decks were fresh, they hadn't even creaked when he'd approached, and the wood was a darker color, the ship wider.

"Where are we, then? And where's my crew?" He asked, confused.

Zoya gave him a brilliant smile, "I think you mean _ my _ crew, who are downstairs dining. Welcome aboard the  _ Stormwitch _ , Lantsov, the fastest ship on the True Sea ever since the Volkvolny was was blown to shreds at the Os Alta harbor."

Nikolai's eyes went wide, "but that means…"

Zoya smirked, the same smirk she'd given him when she'd beaten him all those days ago, the tip of her sword under his chin. It was a look he knew meant trouble.

"Captain Nazyalensky, pleased to meet you," she held out her hand mockingly, "and don't worry, you  _ are _ allowed to join my crew."

Nikolai raised an amused brow, pulling her by the offered hand and catching her at the waist. Her snark remained in place even as his lips grazed her jaw, letting his words brush the shell of her ear. "Is that so?"

He felt the tremor go through her as Zoya met his eyes in challenge.

"Of course," she said, "if you can prove yourself within two weeks."

Nikolai couldn't stop the grin that spread on his face, and he didn't think the sense of happiness in his chest would go away even when the sun had set and darkness blanketed the skies.

"Oh," Zoya added, reaching for something in her coat. Her fingers uncurled around something small and green, something any person in Ravka would recognize instantly as the Lantsov emerald. 

"This is yours," she said, offering it up to him. 

Nikolai eyed it thoughtfully. Perhaps he'd been wrong to cut ties with the Lantsov name so quickly, and perhaps Morozova had been right about his lack of success in doing so. Captain Sturmhond had burned with the ship that carried his legacy, and Nikolai Lantsov had come to take the reins.

Which meant the ring was his, along with the names, the title, and whatever privileges he chose to claim.

Nikolai smiled, curling Zoya's fingers around it once more and pressing a kiss to her closed knuckles.

"Keep it, as a gift," he said softly, then with a wink, he added, " _ Captain _ ."

Zoya rolled her eyes, even as her arms came to settle around his neck and he caught the barest hint of a smile marking her features. 

And he couldn't help but think they'd both been wrong. There was more to life than laughing, drinking, and letting time pass under the stars. 

There was this.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos keep me going <3


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